


Bad Liar

by awizarding



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 22:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13867554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awizarding/pseuds/awizarding
Summary: Inspired by Selena Gomez's "Bad Liar".Where Draco is unable to deal with his feelings for his newfound friend Harry Potter.





	Bad Liar

_I was walking down the street the other day_

_Tryna distract myself_

_But then I see your face_

_Oh wait, that’s someone else_

_Ohh, tryna play it coy_

_Tryna make it disappear_

_But just the battle of Troy_

_There’s nothing subtle here_

_In my room there’s a king size space_

_Bigger than it used to be_

_If you want you can rent that place_

_Call me an amenity_

_Even if it’s in my dreams_

 

— Selena Gomez, “Bad Liar”

 

 

 

This was madness. Pure, untamed, uncontrollable madness. Why did he have to feel this way? About someone he knew could never see him the way he wanted to be seen? As something whole and precious; to be beautiful and to be cherished. But no—he could never be loved by anyone, least of all his enemy… No, they weren’t enemies anymore… But that hurt so much more. For being nothing was worse—so much worse… He would rather be hated than be ignored. For when he was hated, at least then he knew that he would always be in the other’s thoughts… But now… He was just a distant memory of someone he used to be. If only he could turn back time and have been kinder… Maybe then Potter would not have refused Draco that day. Maybe then he would now be in Potter’s heart rather than having been lost in the aftermath of dying youth.

     The first time Draco saw him after the trial was in the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall (Headmaster now) had created an extra year for all students who had been at Hogwarts during the Second Wizarding War. All students had missed out on a proper education, and those who returned would have to make up the year that was lost. The teachers were all working even harder, teaching longer hours to the additional students and having to reform curriculums to try and cover everything the students needed to know. Draco couldn’t help but feel like it was all his fault. He wished someone could tell him it wasn’t.

     Potter looked tired, but he smiled warmly as he hugged his friends and others who nearly died because of Draco’s mistakes. He didn’t deserve to be here, so why did Potter testify for him? He had also testified for Draco’s mother, but his father had been left to be dragged into Azkaban. Draco knew it was what had to be, but that didn’t alleviate the ache in his chest. He was his father, however messed up his teachings and morals were. Draco had always only ever wanted his approval. Something that was always just beyond his reach, and no matter how fast he tried to run to catch it, he would always be left alone in the dust.

     Potter caught Draco staring, and his smile faltered for a second before returning even brighter than before. It startled Draco, and he ripped his eyes away as a blush crept on his cheeks. Damn his fair complexion.

     What was perhaps even more startling—no, what _was_ more startling, was that when Draco looked up again Potter was looking at him thoughtfully, his smile ghosted on his lips. Merlin, he shouldn’t be looking at Potter’s lips. He shouldn’t ever dare to wade into those deep waters of longing that would pull him under and make him drown. There were certain things one wasn’t supposed to fantasise about, and snogging your childhood rival was one of them.

     So Draco did the thing he knew how to do so well, the thing he always did in his life. He turned and ran away, fleeing from the responsibility of acknowledging his own desires.

     The next few weeks went about in mostly the same way. Draco mostly kept to himself, and the withering glares and words of angry surviving students barely made it into his head. No one tried to hurt him, they knew what punishments would be in store for them, and Draco was yet to meet one angry enough to consider it worth the risk. He was lucky in that regard, Draco supposed. Potter still found the time to occasionally send another smile his way, and it confused him as well as sent his heart into overdrive. What was Potter trying to achieve? Draco meant nothing to him anymore, and was wholly undeserving of his small act of kindness. He tried not to think about it, but it always came flooding back, powering dreams that Draco was far too ashamed to ever try to remember. But he never forgot.

     It was in Potions class one day in October that Potter first sat next to him and spoke.

     “Hey, Malfoy.”

     Draco’s eyes had widened comically as he looked around the classroom. Trust him for not paying attention. Although to be fair, he pretty much knew everything already, and this was just tedious revision. The only thing he was concerned about was the brewing practice he earned as he attended the class.

     “What—Potter, what are you doing?” he said, noticing the stares and whispers of onlookers.

     “Sitting next to you. How else are we going to work together?” said Potter calmly as he took out his books and quill. “Check this out, Hermione helped me cast a charm so that my quill always ends up back in my pocket if I lose it.” Potter threw his quill across the room into the back of Ron’s head, smacking into it at full speed.

     Draco gasped before he snorted rather unattractively and laughed behind his hands. The quill flew back across the room even faster than it had been thrown, and Potter caught it in his hand with lightning-fast reflexes. Ron whipped around and Potter tried to feign innocence, quickly looking down at his textbook as he casually flipped through the pages. Ron glared at Draco as he turned back to his desk where he seated beside Hermione. As soon as he was no longer looking, Potter grinned and looked at Draco with a mischievous glint in his eye. Draco found he quite liked it. A lot.

     “So, should we get started?” Potter said, and Draco chuckled exasperatedly as he shook his head.

     “You are mad, Potter,” he said.

     “A bit, yeah. But I wouldn’t have survived this long if I wasn’t,” said Potter.

     Draco smiled as he looked at the board. Elixir to Induce Euphoria? He hadn’t had the time to brew this potion before. At least now he would have the opportunity.

     He looked over to Potter who was grinning at him far too suspiciously.

     “Why are you being so…” Draco waved his hands in the air, at a loss for the right word. “… _Nice_ to me?”

     Potter shrugged. “We can be friends, can’t we?” he said.

     Draco blinked, then pinched himself hard on the hand. Yep, definitely wasn’t dreaming.

     “What are you—did you think you were dreaming?”

     “Yes,” said Draco. “I just… You’ve never—”

     Potter sighed. “I know. And I’m trying to change that. To be your friend.”

     Draco was quiet, before uttering, “Okay.”

     “What?”

     “Okay.”

     Potter beamed as though he had ingested the elixir. Draco smiled shyly back as he found himself blushing again. Quickly slapping his book open, he found the recipe (of course, he knew it by heart; there weren’t many things to do when one was alone in a very big lonesome Manor—but he didn’t want anyone to accuse him of trying to poison bloody Potter) and got up to collect the ingredients. Potter followed, but when he tried to take a Shrivelfig, Draco swiftly grabbed his arm.

     “What—?”

     “Potter, you don’t just grab whatever is closest to you.”

     “Harry.”

     “What?”

     “If we’re going to be friends, you might as well call me Harry,” said ~~Potter~~ Harry.

     “Oh. Alright.” Said Draco. “I guess it would only be fair to let you call me Draco, then.”

     “Cool.” Harry smiled, and Draco went back to the initial topic.

     “So, as I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted—” Draco sniffed dramatically and Harry rolled his eyes, “—you have to _choose_ the ingredients. Just because it’s a Shrivelfig, does not mean that’s it the _right_ Shrivelfig.”

     Harry snorted. “You sound like Snape.”

     Draco smiled. “He was my mentor.”

     Harry nodded and they continued looking for ingredients. Once they were finished, they headed back to the table to brew the potion.

     However, when Harry tried to add a sprig of peppermint, Draco stopped him.

     “What in Salazar’s name do you think you’re doing? Peppermint is not part of the—wait! It’s perfect! It will counterbalance the singing and nose-tweaking!” Draco said excitedly, furiously scribbling down on a piece of parchment. “How did you figure that out?”

     “Let’s just say a mentor taught me that one,” said Harry. Draco cocked his head but didn’t ask any further questions as he went back to brewing.

 

 

 

_Ooh you’re taking up a fraction of my mind_

_Ooh every time I watch you serpentine_

_Oh I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’_

_I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’_

_Not to think about you_

_No, no, no, no_

_Oh I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’_

_I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’_

_Not to give in to you_

_No, no, no, no_

_Not to give in to you_

_With my feelings on fire_

_Guess I’m a bad liar_

 

 

 

Being friends with Harry wasn’t disappointing. All the waiting, for this moment, it was bittersweet. They didn’t argue much, not angrily like they had before at least, and even Harry’s friends were growing to not hate him so much. The only problem was trying to hide his feelings away. No one of his feelings, and Draco intended to keep it that way. Pansy was his best friend, and knew he was already gay, but she didn’t know who for. She had been trustworthy, though, and hadn’t told his parents. His father would have forced him to marry a woman to continue the bloodline, and if he knew it was Harry Potter… he may very well have disowned Draco. Mother would be more understanding, he knew, but he hadn’t had the courage to tell her yet. Once a coward, always a bloody coward.

     However, as it was nearing Christmas, Draco became aware that he was not as talented at hiding his feelings as he had thought.

     “Cut the crap, Draco,” Pansy had slammed open the door to the Eighth year common room one evening after dinner.

     “Using Muggle swears, are you now?” said Draco, not looking up from his book.

     “Oh, shut it. You know what I’m here about,” Pansy took Draco’s book away and held it to her chest.

     “No, I’m afraid I don’t,” said Draco. He did.

     Pansy rolled her eyes. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you making googly-eyes at Potter the last—what, four years?”

     “It has not been four years!”

     “I’m sorry, three?”

     “Five,” Draco muttered as his face exploded into a deep shade of scarlet.

     “Oh, Draco,” Pansy sighed as she plonked down next to him. “It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?”

     Draco shrugged.

     “I’ll take that as a yes. Now, I’m going to let it slide that you didn’t tell me all these years, and instead will help you.”

     “Help me?”

     “Yes, darling. I’m going to get you Potter,” said Pansy.

     “Harry.”

     “Merlin, you’re really head over heels for him, aren’t you?” Pansy said. “Have you told your mum?”

     Draco paled as he shook his head.

     “Draco!” Pansy smacked him on the head with the book. “When were you planning on telling her?”

     “As soon as I tell her I’m gay.”

     “And when will that be?”

     “When she’s dead. Or I’m dead, I’m not picky.”

     “Draco.”

     Draco sighed as he stood up. “Pansy, how am I going to tell her that her only son is gay? That she’s never going to have a grandchild? That the Malfoy line will die with me? That I’m hopelessly in love with Harry fucking Potter?”

     “I suppose that’s why you’ve been so stressed lately,” said Pansy. “Trying to play best mates?”

     Draco put his hand to his temple as he paced. “I saw him half-naked the other day. I think I almost lost my mind.”

     “Which half?”

     “Pansy!”

     “Okay, Godric, it was just a joke, don’t be so bitchy,” said Pansy.

     “No, Pans, you don’t _get it_ —this is not some little bloody crush like the one you had for me in third year, this is way more, it’s all I can think about, wherever I look, he’s there, and he’s inescapable, I just get lost trying to find my way back, because there is no way back.”

     “No way back from where?” Harry’s voice sounded behind them. Draco whipped around and saw the trio all walking into the room. Fuck—how much did he hear?

     “The Forbidden Forest,” said Pansy. “Draco’s terribly afraid of it.”

     “I am not!” Draco snapped, though he was silently grateful for his friend’s interference.

     “I do seem to recall you running away screaming back in first year,” said Harry.

     “I was eleven!” Draco detested, “And whatever that thing was—it was drinking the unicorn’s _blood_ , like I would want to meet anyone mad enough to do that!”

     “Relax, Draco, I was just pulling your leg,” Harry grinned.

     “Pulling my—what on earth are you on about?”

     “It’s an expression, means I’m just teasing you.”

     “Oh. Well, I have some work to get done, if you would please hand me my book back, Pansy,” said Draco, turning to Pansy as he thrust his hand out.

     “ _Pride and Prejudice_?” said Pansy as she read the title out loud.

     Draco flushed as he attempted to snatch it back. Pansy only leaned back away from him, opening the book and beginning to read where Draco had marked his place.

     “‘ _In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you_ ,’” she said in a posh voice. “Oh, Mr. _Darcy_ —!”

     Draco wanted to die. To fall into the ground and never resurface. He angrily managed to rip the book from Pansy’s clutches, and stomped upstairs without looking back.

     That wretched piece of human shite, Draco was going to pay her back for that. He shut the curtains of his bed and tried to focus on his Transfiguration essay, but found himself drawn back to his novel. It was Muggle fiction, but it was well-written. Apparently, it was considered a “classic”, but Draco didn’t want other people to know he was reading it.

 

     _Elizabeth’s astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. He spoke well; but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed; and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority—of its being a degradation—of the family obstacles which had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit._

 

     “You and me both, Mr. Darcy,” whispered Draco as he fell back against the pillows on his bed.

 

 

 

_I see how your attention builds_

_It’s like looking in a mirror_

_Your touch like a happy pill_

_But still all we do is fear_

_What could possibly happen next?_

_Can we focus on the love?_

_Paint my kiss across your chest_

_If you’re the art, I’ll be the brush_

 

 

 

This game was horrible. Whoever had the idea to play this shitty Muggle game was going to be murdered in a very bloody manner. The eighth years were playing a game called Truth or Dare, and Draco was yet to choose Truth. He couldn’t risk it with all the secrets he had locked up inside him.

     “Truth or dare, Draco?” said Hermione.

     “Dare,” Draco said quickly.

     Hermione hummed thoughtfully. “I dare you to try to sneak into the girl’s dormitories,” she said.

     Draco frowned. “But I thought boys weren’t able to go up there.”

     “Well, I have a theory,” said Hermione. “And I need someone to test it out.”

     It took Draco a minute to register what her theory was. Oh _hell no_ , he wasn’t going to out himself to the entirety of the eighth year students.

     “Oh, choose something more interesting,” said Pansy. “As funny as it would be to see Draco fall flat on his arse, it would be awfully boring.”

     “Excuse me—”

     “Hmm. I suppose I’ll try it another time. But I don’t know what to make him do,” said Hermione.

     “Make him spin the bottle,” said Lavender Brown.

     Draco blanched. “Absolutely not! I will not have my first—” he quickly shut his mouth in horror of what he was saying.

     “Wait, Draco, oh my Merlin, don’t tell me you’ve never—” Pansy began as everyone stared at Draco in shock.

     “Yes I have! Shut up!”

     “You’re lying, you little fucker—your nose is twitching!” Pansy said.

     “Really, Draco? Wow, you’re even more of a spod than I thought!” said Blaise, laughing.

     “Just shut up! You know what, I don’t want to play this stupid game anymore,” said Draco as he made his way to the door of the common room. He was about to open the door when he felt a hand on his arm.

     “Don’t go. I’m sorry that happened, but its okay, really, I suck at kissing anyway,” said Harry. “I mean it—the first time I kissed someone she started crying.”

     Draco shook his head. “I can’t do this anymore, Harry.”

     Harry frowned, his startling green eyes piercing right through Draco. “What do you mean?”

     “I just—this. I can’t do this. You actually giving a shit about me. I need—something more. I need you, all of you, not just the little bit you share with your friends, because I want to be more than that to you, don’t you see? I’m Mr. Darcy and you’re Elizabeth, and I’ve been such a complete arsehole that now that I love you you’ll reject me, because of what I’ve done, and rightfully so!”

     “What? Is that from your book? Wait—don’t they—” said Harry.

     “Harry, I just told you I fucking love you and that’s what you’re worried about?” Draco was beginning to feel hysterical.

     “I’m sorry, this is just a lot to take in. Are you sure?” Harry said, rubbing his eyes from behind his glasses.

     “I’ve been sure since at least third year,” said Draco, looking away.

     “Well, I’ve been a bit slower than that. But I think it’s been there for a while,” Harry replied, reaching out to lift Draco’s face. “You’re quite beautiful, you know.”

     Draco swallowed. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Potter,” he said with a smile.

     “Is that an invitation, Malfoy?”

     “Of course,” said Draco as he unsteadily stepped a bit closer.

     “Then I’d better accept, oughtn’t I? It’s only good manners,” said Harry as took a step forward as well.

     “Mmm,” said Draco. “Only good manners.”

     “You’re awfully charming, Draco, I must say. Should I trust your adulation?”

     “You should,” said Draco, as they leaned into one another. “After all, I’m a bad liar.”

     “Oh my God, would you stop flirting and eye-fucking or whatever the weird shit you’re doing is and just kiss!” shouted Pansy.

     “Pansy, what are you—” Draco couldn’t answer because Harry kissed him. On the mouth. Wow. This was… something entirely new, both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. It felt wonderful, and while Draco was sure he was doing something wrong, he couldn’t help but feel that nothing could prevent this from feeling right. Harry was so gentle at first, he must have been as scared as Draco was right now, but all the tension dissolved as they kissed more fervently and Draco brought his hands up to tangle in that atrocious hair he had come to love so much, melted into Harry as he reeled all the wonderful feelings that were washing over him.

     Pushing away, Draco came for air gasping and not knowing where he was or what the fuck he was doing, just that he had kissed Harry Potter and while it had been messy and a little awkward, it had felt _great_.

     “Finally. Now you can get your dramatic emo arse back into check,” said Pansy.

     “As long they stop moaning about each other constantly,” said Ron. “I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.”

     “Sorry, Weasley, but I’m afraid that’s never gonna happen,” Blaise said dryly.

     “Bugger off,” Draco said. “I hate you guys.”

     “Nah, you don’t,” said Blaise.

     “You love us, almost as much as you love little Potty over here,” said Pansy with a wink as she slunk away. That girl reminded him far too much of a cat.

     “Remember, you owe me twenty-five galleons, Ron,” Hermione said as she grinned and held up both thumbs before retreating after her fellow students.

      “You ready to go back in?” Harry said, taking Draco’s hand after they had left.

      “In a minute,” said Draco, before leaning down to kiss Harry again. Something told him it would be a lot longer than a minute, but Harry was well aware of that fact. After all, Draco really was a bad liar.

 

 

 

_And oh baby let’s make reality, actuality, a reality_

_Oh baby let’s make reality, actuality, a reality_

_With my feelings on fire_

_Guess I’m a bad liar._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this.  
> Until we meet again,  
> — Abby


End file.
